


Folie à deux

by EvilMuffins



Category: Dangan Ronpa, Super Dangan Ronpa 2
Genre: Angst, F/M, Introspection, Twisted and Fluffy Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-02
Updated: 2015-03-02
Packaged: 2018-03-10 20:41:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3302804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EvilMuffins/pseuds/EvilMuffins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tsumiki thinks that perhaps it's time for a change of plans.<br/>-<br/>Even after her execution, Komaeda finds himself unable to get a certain nurse out of his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Premeditation

**Author's Note:**

> Originally, chapter 2 was uploaded first, before I knew I wanted to have Tsumiki's pov as well. The chapters have since been rearranged.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just playing with one of my head-canons.

_Junko-sama will be so pleased_ , Tsumiki thought as the faucet poured over her hands. She had just finished tending to Owari, and now saw fit to bring a cool cloth to Komaeda. His suffering would be at an end soon, so it only felt right let his final moments be as comfortable as possible.

The faucet knob squeaked as she turnt it to off, nearly masking a second noise. Wet rag still dripping through her fingers, she paused to listen. A thumping was coming from outside of the restroom window. Her calm mood took a sharp dive. Was someone spying on her, trying to spoil everything?

She whipped around. Two hands were pressed against the glass, long, elegant fingers topped off with perfectly manicured nails.

Tsumiki choked back a scream, instead flinging the wet cloth at the window with a moist thud. Though the hands had appeared clean, they left behind glistening red hand prints for a parting gift as they lifted away.

Hesitantly, Tsumiki retrieved the cloth, washing it out in the sink once more. She was hallucinating due to her own fever, she knew. She also knew that sanitizing the cloth was a waste of time, considering her patient wouldn’t be alive long enough to contract any further sickness. Still, the familiar action was soothing.

She shook her head, doing her best to ignore the ceaseless clusters of dripping hand prints cropping up on every pane of glass as she traversed the halls.

“Komaeda-saaaan~, are you feeling any better yet?” she asked in a sing-song as she entered his room.

She frowned when there came no response. It wouldn’t do at all if he up and died all on his own.

Upon approach, however, the faint rise and fall of his chest became visible.

With a gentle smile, she began to pat at his forehead with the cloth. The patient frowned at the sudden sensation.

“Don’t worry; everything will be over soon,” she crooned.

“Tsumiki-san…” he groaned.

“I’m here.”

“…luck,” he rasped.

“Would mind speaking up?” the nurse requested sweetly, removing the cloth.

“…What…terrible luck I have…getting sick while having a nurse like you on the island…I don’t feel safe with you…”

Her heart sank. Did he somehow know what she was planning? Just as quickly, however relief washed over her. Komaeda was suffering from the lying disease. It was easy to forget, since he been asleep much of the time that he had been in her care.

“Is that so?” she replied mildly.

A halo of sweat stained the pillow around his head. Tsumiki went to the small linen cabinet to retrieve a fresh case.

“Can you lift your head at all? I need to slide the pillow out.”

The boy responded with a hacking cough, yet complied as best he could.

Even before she had contracted the fever herself and regained her memories of despair, Tsumiki had secretly delighted in caring for the ill students. To be needed by some of the most prestigious students in the world, to have their lives in her hands, it was intoxicating.

Even now, she could simply leave Komaeda Nagito, the boy who was the eminent embodiment of ‘luck’, grimacing alone on the rock-hard, pillowless mattress. Instead, she placed her hand beneath his head, cradling his soft yet dampened hair, as she slipped the crisp, freshly changed pillow beneath him.

Absently stroking his hair, she looked to the clock. She would have to enact the plan soon, if there was going to be time for everything to go smoothly. She’d be visiting Mioda next. While she was caring for her, she might mention that it was Komaeda who was making them ill, that he was poisoning everyone. The only way to get him to stop would be for Mioda to kill him. She’d hand the musician a rope, and ask her to strangle the boy. Komaeda Nagito would be murdered at the hands of Mioda Ibuki, and the world’s greatest young musician would be guilty.

Having Komaeda out of the way would be perfect. He was incredibly intelligent, and so very perceptive. Tsumiki only wished that she could have been as bright as he was. With him gone, the others would have a difficult time guessing that Mioda was the killer. They’d guess wrong, and they’d all be killed, herself included. What could bring more glorious despair than that?

“Tsumiki-san…keep working all night…I don’t want you taking any breaks…” He coughed once more.

She smiled softly. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be fine. I have to tend to Mioda-san now. I’ll come back for you in a little while, okay?”

As she turned to go, she felt a tug at the hem of skirt. An image of the spectral hands from earlier flashed in her mind, though when she turned around, panicked, it was only her patient, feebly clutching at the garment.

“Don’t come back, Tsumiki-san. Leave me here... I hate being cared for by you more than anything. I want to die,” he pleaded, fear painted across his feverish face.

Without a word, the girl continued walking toward the door, forcing the boy to lose his grasp on her, hand dropping uselessly to the side of the bed.

Tsumiki turned the doorknob slowly.

He always been so kind to her; it was really such a shame that things had to end up this way.

Maybe it would be better to come up with a different plan, after all… As long as some despair came of it in the end, it was all the same wasn’t it?

_End_


	2. Aftermath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Basically 1000+ words of me organising some thoughts on my OTP.

_“Tsumiki Mikan…”_ he whispered to the stillness of the room.

Komaeda turned over in bed for the fifth time in as many minutes.

No matter which wall of his cabin he stared at, all he could see instead was the once pretty face of the young nurse, contorted into that grotesque parody of infatuation following her trial.

She was dead and gone now, lost beyond the veil of despair that she had attempted to cast before the eyes of the remaining students… So why couldn’t he put her aside and move on the same as he did following the other trials?

It was a waste of time to dwell on the dead; looking forward was clearly the best way to pave a pathway toward hope. He knew this, and yet, something about the previous case continued to weigh on his mind.

Hanamura had killed in order to go back home to his mother. Pekoyama had committed her crime out of a wish to spare the one she cared for most. Tsumiki… She had claimed to kill in order to please her beloved, but it had been clear that the girl had been acting on the side of despair, rather than hope. He had felt such disappointment when her motive came light. He had wished that she could have been stronger, could have cultivated the seeds of hope within her in order to strangle her blossoming despair. It was wrong. The entire situation was just wrong. Was Tsumiki herself even truly the one to lay blame on? Could it be that the person that she had called her ‘beloved’ had been the one to inject despair into the girl, releasing it into her veins like a fatal overdose?

After the trial, the other students had come to the conclusion that Tsumiki had been a revolting pawn of despair all along, that every moment they had spent with her on the island had been nothing more than a cruel fairytale in which the meek and timid healer girl had tossed aside her mantle to revel herself as the witch. It hadn’t been worth bringing this up to them at the time- what had happened, happened and their opinions on the girl wouldn’t bring her or anyone else back, yet weren’t they able to recall the Twilight Syndrome game? The character of ‘A-ko’, was identical in both speech and mannerism to the Tsumiki that they had grown to care for. If it was true that the game was based on an actual event that had occurred during her school life, then wouldn’t it stand to reason the Tsumiki they knew hadn’t been a lie? A shadow of times past, perhaps, but certainly not a complete fabrication. Something must have happened to her in the time between that incident having taken place and their current predicament. Could it have been the former lover she had spoken of? No one like that had appeared in the game, so it would stand to reason that she met that particular person some time after.

Komaeda rolled over onto his back with a sigh, rubbing at his eyes. He wouldn’t be much use to the others tomorrow without sleep, but than again, when was he ever of use to anyone?

The blankets suddenly felt smothering in the summer air. He slid out of bed and wandered to the small bathroom. Turning the faucet fully to cold, he proceeded to splash some water onto his pale face. As he toweled off, he caught a glance of his reflection in the mirror.

Tsumiki had sacrificed herself for the sake of despair, just as he had attempted to offer himself up to hope. They were like a pair of ballroom dancers who had been taught the same routine, yet when brought face-to-face, remained slightly out of step with each other, a fundamental dissonance not unlike an image in a mirror.

In the short time he had had to get acquainted with her, he had been struck by their similarities. Tsumiki was also a person who thought herself to be worthless and unwanted. At first he had thought it was her particular brand of haplessness that set them apart, but that was all just a show, wasn’t it? Even before despair had overtaken the sweet, kind girl that everyone felt pity for, Tsumiki had still been playing everyone in a way, forcing people to pay her attention,like that little girl at a birthday, the one who would become petulant when her guests would talk among themselves. It was something he could understand in a way and it was hard to really blame her for it, considering the things that she had been through as a child. If he had taken a different attitude toward life, perhaps he could have turned out much the same way, making cheap bids for attention in order to overshadow his shortcomings. In fact, perhaps that was how the others did see him. Either way, up until her grand finale, she had, in truth, been a person that he had hoped to spend more time with. His inklings that perhaps she was the type of person who could understand him had been proven horribly correct following the end of the trial- she did understand him all too well. Had it been due to his luck cycle? Despair rising up to swallow the one person who could understand him? If that was the case, then where was the good luck?

He hung the towel back on the hook, before shuffling back to perch on the edge of his bed.

Had things gone differently, could they have become closer? Could their mutual understanding have grown into a friendship, something more?

He quickly extinguished the idea. Wanting something and being worthy of it were two very different things.

This was getting him no where. He flopped backward, closing his eyes once again, as his legs dangled off the side of the bed. The late nurse would have scolded him for sleeping in such a way. She’d tell him to take better care of himself, making sure he was properly situated under covers so as not to catch cold. Even when she had been mad with despair, she had continued to care for his health until the end, such was her dedication.

He stayed put. His knees would definitely be sore in the morning, he thought, as he felt himself finally drifting off.

Perhaps if someone did use him as a steppingstone toward hope, he’d be able to meet her again. They were surely going to wind up in the same place, after all.


End file.
